


Pull You From the Tide

by Seaofartisticwords



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Eventual Happy Ending, Fake/Pretend Relationship, George being oblivious, Holidays, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, karlnap if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29648541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaofartisticwords/pseuds/Seaofartisticwords
Summary: Falling in love is sometimes very messy.Of course, agreeing to fake a relationship for ten days with the one person he's deeply in love with may not have made the situation any less of a disaster, Dream thinks to himself. He knows the end of the trip is going to wreak havoc on his heart, but he wants to pretend for just a little while longer...(Or a very self indulgent fake dating for the holidays au)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 37





	1. Something, Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> No beta we die like minecraft men  
> This is my first DnF fic, so any feedback is appreciated!! I took a couple creative liberties with George's family for this au just because we don't know much about his family other than he does have siblings.  
> Happy reading! Feel free to scream at me in the comments  
> This fic, title, and chapter titles are somewhat inspired by Line Without a Hook by Rick Montgomery so I would recommend checking the song out while you read :)

The faint ding of a text notification over the sound of the music playing through his blue earbuds draws George out from the tunnel-vision focus on his coding project. He pulls his eyes away from the brightly lit screen of his laptop, realizing with a start that his room is much darker than it was when he sat down. The sun must have set already, he observes as he reaches to unlock his phone.

**George & Bitch-ster**

**Bitch-ster:** hey asshole

 **Bitch-ster:** mom and dad want to know when ur coming for break

 **Bitch-ster:** they also wanna know if ur bringing anyone with u ;)

George sighs, willing himself to not toss his phone across the room. Of course his parents were using the excuse of the holidays to annoy him about his increasingly scarce love life. He turns on the lamp on his desk, pushing down the bubble of annoyance before dignifying his older sister with a response.

 **George:** my flight lands on sunday night

 **Bitch-ster:** what about the 2nd thing??? ;)

 **George:** shut up, monica

 **Bitch-ster:** that doesn’t answer the quesiton

 **George:** …

 **George:** if it matters that much…

 **George:** yes im bringing someone, don’t flip out on me

He watches the three bubbles that signify his sister typing a response for a minute, mulling over the message he just sent. George had just fucked up big time. Here he was, single as anyone could possibly be, promising his family that he was going to be flying to Brighton in three days with a significant other.

His phone dings again and he has to force himself to look at the reply.

 **Bitch-ster:** HOLY SHIT???

 **Bitch-ster:** do i get any deets?

 **George:** absolutely not.

 **Bitch-ster:** :( ur lame

 **Bitch-ster:** i guess i’ll find out when you both get here ;)

 **George:** see u then.

After placing his phone face down on his desk, George ignores the next couple of annoying texts he gets from his older sister in favor of mentally punching himself in the face. His thoughts race with every possible option he has to make this work. Maybe he could put out a craigslist ad, who knows how many single college kids would jump at the chance of a free vacation to the UK. No, that’s _stupid_ , not to mention extremely risky. He could fake a bad breakup, pretend like it ended so badly that he doesn’t want to speak about it. George remembers how much of a terrible actor he is and decides to scrap that idea.

Finding someone to date him and then be willing to meet his whole family less than three days after meeting was an unlikely scenario, so George thinks of one last solution to the hole he has dug himself: bring a friend and pretend to date them.

It’s not the worst idea George has ever had by a long shot, but which one of his friends would be willing to fake date him for ten days around his family. He goes down a mental checklist of people he would consider asking. He thought of a few of his classmates, but none of them were close enough with him for him to be comfortable asking. Nick was already in a relationship, and already told George that he was planning on visiting his family for the holiday break, so he wasn’t an option. 

Every person he can think of to ask, his brain comes up with a reason why he can’t ask them.

Frustrated at the situation he put himself in, George decides to be finished with his coding final for the night. He shuts his laptop down and decides to leave his room for a quick snack. The time on his phone display helpfully informs him that he had been coding for nearly four hours. 

George feels his stomach rumble. As he steps out of his room into the common area of the shared apartment, he can hear the faint chatter of Dream streaming from down the hallway.

George feels like he has been punched in the stomach. _Of course_. He can imagine the invisible box of his dilemma fade away as he makes the realization. 

_Dream._

He should ask Dream to go with him.

George realizes that he has stopped dead in the middle of the hall in their apartment and forces himself to move before Nick can find him frozen in place like an idiot. That’s a bout of teasing that George would rather live without.

He forces his feet to carry him down the hallway to the kitchen. George thinks over every possible reason why Clay might decline a free trip to England- well, every reason other than having to pretend to date his best friend of course- coming to the conclusion that his best friend is also the best person to proposition this to. 

George pours himself a bowl of fruit loops to serve as a late night snack as he decides with an odd sense of finality to ask Clay to go home with him for the holidays.

He sits down on the couch in their living room as he eats his bowl of colorful cereal, and decides to pull open Dream’s stream on his phone. The vague sound of his voice from down the hallway clarifies through his earbuds, still in his ears from earlier. George wonders how Clay finds the time and energy to stream speedruns in the middle of finals week, feeling a little guilty that he himself hasn’t streamed in well over a week due to course work. 

He entertains chat a little bit by sending a few messages, poking fun at Dream’s strategies on the current run he’s doing. George listens to the other laugh down the hall before it echoes directly into his ears from the headphones. Chat erupts with messages of hello’s and questions of where he has been for a week. George ignores them all in favor of sending a few donations with shitty jokes in the comment line. 

After another hour of runs, George listens as Clay finally ends the stream. He welcomes the end of the stream as a chance to move off of the couch, stretching his legs and depositing the now empty bowl into the dishwasher. 

Opening Twitter, he returns to his spot on the sofa and scrolls through tweets he has missed from the day. George registers the sound of a door opening down the hallway as he reads several dozen tweets complaining about his absence of late. Footsteps approach from the end of the hall, and George looks up when he feels the couch shift as weight is added to the other end.

“Having fun crashing my chat?” Clay asks with a grin. His viridian eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief in the light of the night. 

George laughs. “You’re an ass, you know that?” There’s no real bite to his words, and he knows that Clay knows as much. The other man lets out a soft chuckle. In the yellow lighting of their college apartment, George can see the faint outline of bags under Clay’s eyes, and the hints of exhaustion across his freckled features.

George realizes with a twinge of sadness that Clay has probably been staying up extra late after streaming to finish his work for the semester. 

“You look tired.” He blurts out without thinking. George’s own exhaustion wearing down the filter between his brain and his mouth. 

“Yeah.” Is the response.

There’s a weighted pause for a few moments. George rolls over words in his brain, trying to best figure out the way to approach the question he needs to ask.

“What are your plans for the break?” Clay questions before George can speak. The faint flutter of anxiety that was starting to spark continues to build in the latter’s chest. George tries to ignore the feeling.

“Actually, I need to talk to you about that.” 

Clay tilts his head to the side. George’s brain very helpfully supplies the comparison between his friend and a puppy at the gesture. He can almost see the gears turning in Clay’s head.

“I don’t really know how to- I guess I should- ugh!” George stumbles over the words. He huffs in frustration and starts over. “Let me ask first: do you have any plans for the break?” Part of his mind has a growing feeling of something- hope, maybe?- building quickly as he awaits the response. What is probably only thirty seconds before Dream speaks feels like an eternity to George.

“Uh, no, not really.” Clay mumbles, his expression still writhe with confusion. “I was probably going to stay here for the break, since my parents are going on vacation for their anniversary.” 

_Perfect_. George fights back the smile of relief that tries to cross his face. He realizes he’s been silent for too long when Dream speaks again.

“Why?”

“So, hear me out on this first.” George rushes, nerves getting the best of him. He carefully watches his friend’s expression to try and read his thoughts. “I may or may not have told my sister that I was bringing home a partner for the holidays.”

He takes a breath.

“Problem is, I’m not actually dating anyone and I’m leaving Sunday morning to go back home.” He continues to explain.

“That’s only in three days.” Clay says flatly, a look of complete confusion and something else George can’t distinguish written on his face. 

“No shit, Sherlock.” George shoots back. He nervously plays with the hem of his hoodie. Since when did Dream make him so nervous? “Anyways, I guess what I’m trying to ask is: would you pretend to be my boyfriend when I go home to visit my family for the holidays?”

Clay splutters, his face turning red enough that George can actually see the flush burning under his freckles. “You want me to- _What?!_ ” 

Not exactly the reaction George wanted to receive, but he isn’t sure what else he had been expecting to happen.

He starts to backpedal. “I mean, you really don’t have to. I’m kind of royally screwed if I don’t bring someone home because I think a ‘breakup’ right before the holidays is super fishy, but I totally understand if the idea makes you uncomfortable and you don’t want to come.” George rambles, feeling a warmth building in his own cheeks with his embarrassment. “Really, it’s not that big of a deal if you say no. I just didn’t have anyone else to ask. At least not anyone who-”

“ _George_.” 

Clay’s voice breaks through his thoughts, putting his rambling to a sudden halt. George can’t really tell what the expression on the other’s face is, but he can still faintly see the bright red blush high on his cheekbones. A stray thought crosses his mind that Clay looks cute when he’s flustered- _where the fuck did that come from?_

“Yeah?” He responds softly before his thoughts can spiral again.

“I’ll come with you.”

It’s George’s turn to splutter. He feels the blush on his own cheeks begin to spread higher. It has to be illegal to be this flustered, he thinks to himself as he chokes on his own words. Somewhere, he’s well aware of Dream wheezing at the expression on his face. 

“Wait, really?” He wheezes, out of breath as he calms himself down. “You’re saying you’ll pretend to be my boyfriend for the holidays? For real?”

“Stop questioning it before I take it back.” There’s a guarded edge to Clay’s voice that says he means the words. George decides to shut his mouth before he says anything else stupid. “Yes, I’ll do it. But you need to pay for my plane ticket.” Clay chews on his lower lip for a moment, clearly thinking before he continues. “And do my laundry for a month.”

A small price to pay to make his parents happy and avoid his own humiliation, George decides. 

“Deal.”

“Cool.” Dream says, the expression on his face still unreadable. 

“Cool.” George responds with next to no emotion in his voice, his mind still racing about ten-thousand thoughts per second.

What in the hell has he gotten them into?


	2. 2. All my Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nerves about international travel are entirely forgotten as Clay focuses very intently on not thinking about how unnecessarily cute George is early in the morning. Especially dressed semi-casually in a light blue sweater and dark wash skinny jeans.  
> “How the fuck are you so cheery this early in the morning?” Clay asks, interrupting his own thought process before his whole face can turn cherry red, although he is acutely aware that the tops of his cheeks are definitely dusted pink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had more planned for this chapter and then I realized it was getting a lot longer than the last chapter and decided it needed to be split! Enjoy a good ol' Clay centered chapter and enjoy the Panic and Repressed Feelings

Clay is really an idiot, he decides. It’s four in the morning on Sunday, and he’s waiting in line at the airport security with George. His best friend, the person he cares about more than anything in the world, the one person he likes just a  _ little bit _ more than  _ just _ friends.

And Clay had agreed to go on a ten day visit to George’s parents’ as his pretend boyfriend.

The second the words of agreement had come out of his mouth that night three days ago. He seriously considered jumping out a window in their third floor apartment the moment after his traitorous mouth spoke the words without consulting his brain first.

Despite all this, Clay finds himself handing over his boarding pass and passport to the TSA agent. The uniformed woman scans both and compares them for a moment before waving him through with a bored look on her face. He begins to load his carry-on and shoes onto the conveyor belt for screening, a twinge of anxiety starting to weasle its way into his mind. 

The feeling is ignored as George catches up to him, catching his gaze with a tired, but somewhat excited looking grin plastered across his face. Nerves about international travel are entirely forgotten as Clay focuses very intently on  _ not  _ thinking about how unnecessarily cute George is early in the morning. Especially dressed semi-casually in a light blue sweater and dark wash skinny jeans.

“How the fuck are you so cheery this early in the morning?” Clay asks, interrupting his own thought process before his whole face can turn cherry red, although he is acutely aware that the tops of his cheeks are definitely dusted pink. His words carry very little bite in them and the yawn that follows adds to that effect.

George laughs bright and loud, the crystalline sound ringing through the airport like bells as they exit security. “I’m just excited to visit home, is all.” He replies nonchalant with a shrug of his shoulders. The shorter man glances down at his ticket and then at the airport signage hanging up in front of them. 

“I think our gate is this way.” He adds after a moment, pointing down the large corridor to their left. Without waiting for Clay to react, George grabs his hand and starts to pull him towards their gate.

Clay scrambles to make sure he has a grip on the handle of his bag and  _ yeah, he’s definitely blushing now. _

The pair arrives at their departure gate, brightly lit screens and the sound of announcements over the intercom intermingling with the soft humming of conversation fills the airport. It’s a lot for Clay to take in. He had admitted to George the day after agreeing to come on the trip that he had never actually travelled on a plane before, much less internationally.

_ “Wait, really?” George had laughed at him in surprise. “Why the hell would you agree to fly  _ ten hours across an ocean _ with me then?” _

_ “There’s no better time than the present to do something new.” Clay had lied quickly. “Besides, at least now I won’t be doing it alone the first time.”  _

George had bought the explanation at the time, and as Clay finds them seats at the terminal, he hopes that the fib was still holding up to his oblivious friend.

With about forty-five minutes to kill until boarding starts (Clay still has no clue why George insisted they arrived quite so early for the flight), Clay resorts to aimlessly scrolling through Twitter, liking tweets from his friends and some of the better pieces of fan art that he stumbles upon in his feed. After a bit, Clay realizes that he had never really announced he was going to be missing in action for a week and a half, so he starts to draft a quick tweet. 

As he types, the taller man is ever so clearly aware of George leaning his head on his shoulder to read the message that he’s typing. Clay tries his hardest to ignore the tuft of deep brown hair pressed against his neck and the way his own heart begins to race.

Feeling satisfied with the tweet he’s written, Clay hits the button to post. Seconds later he can hear George’s phone vibrate in his pocket.  _ He has notifications on for me _ , he realizes. Some part of his chest feels warm and bubbly with the thought. A rush of warmth floods his face and Clay is so glad that the other’s head is tucked on his shoulder where he can definitely not see how red his face has currently gotten.

“ _ Attention all passengers for flight 404: Orlando International to London Heathrow… _ ” Comes the voice of the gate attendant over the echoing intercom system. George lifts his head off of the shoulder of the younger man next to him. Clay feels an emotion he can’t pinpoint flutter inside him, but it dissipates as his brain begins to become addled with anxiety at the announcements.

“ _...We will begin boarding now…” _ The lady continues, the intercom system crackling and making her words hard to make out amidst the chatter of passengers. “ _ Starting with our first class and diamond rank fliers… _ ” A large handful of various men and women in nice clothing carrying laptops and suitcases begin to line themselves up in front of the entrance of the jetway.

The uncomfortable tingling sensation that Clay often found himself associating with anxiety started to churn in his stomach again. The pair’s seats are in business class, so they would be boarding in the next group. 

Distracted by the wave of new found anxiety, Clay starts to shake his leg as he starts to make sure his bag is all put together. His thoughts begin to spiral, second guessing the decisions that led to him sitting in this airport. For a brief second the idea of going  _ fuck it _ and just leaving the airport- and George- crosses his mind but Clay quickly swats the thought aside. He made an agreement, and if there’s one thing about Clay that he prides himself in, it’s that he always follows through.

Even if this time it means getting on a terrifying metal tube that is going to be flying a couple thousand feet over an ocean for ten hours.

Clay’s thoughts are interrupted by George standing up next to him. He glances up to see rich brown eyes looking expectantly down at him. Clay stares blankly up at him, aware that the look on his face is probably laughable.

“C’mon, they called our group for boarding.” George says helpfully, choosing not to comment on the way that Clay is still bouncing his leg up and down on the airport floor. 

Clay forces himself up out of his seat, his limbs feeling like lead as he grabs onto the handle of his bag and follows George to line up.

The young, tired looking man at the entrance to the eerie looking tunnel scans their tickets and passports without a second glance, and before he knows it, Clay finds himself joining a second queue in the jetway.

The single file line moves slowly as the passengers in front of him and George put their items away and find their seats, but the pair only spends about five minutes shuffling forward until they find the row where their seats are located. Clay makes a mental note to thank George for eternity for making sure to book them in adjacent seats, located in the center section of the plane. 

Clay offers to lift the other’s suitcase into an overhead bin, reading the directions on the inside of the lid a couple of times to be certain he isn’t doing anything incorrectly. After loading both of their bags into the bin, the taller man slides into his seat with a deep inhale. He stares down at his fidgeting hands, only glancing up when George sits down in the seat next to him.

“Hey.” Clay says softly, failing to keep the tremble of nerves out of his voice.

“Hey.” George replies with a tired smile, the adrenaline of the morning finally having worn off and his lack of sleep beginning to wear him down. “Are you doing alright?” Clay’s heart flutters a little at the concern laced in George’s voice.

“I’m-” Clay pauses to really consider how he’s feeling, beyond the racing of his heart and his anxiety about the entire situation. “I’m okay.” There’s a beat where George’s gaze looks right through him, and Clay rushes to continue. “At least, I think I am. I’ll be better once we’ve been in the air for a bit. Probably.” 

George nods at him sagely. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Honestly, it’s best to try and sleep for part of the flight just to try and avoid total jet lag.” He offers the advice with a grin still across his face.

“I’ll think about it.” Is Clay’s response, and the two fall into silence as the flight attendants begin the safety demonstration. Clay watches the whole thing intently and reads the safety manual after just to be safe.

“ _ Flight cleared for takeoff, crew please cross-check doors for departure. _ ” The captain’s voice says through the plane. Clay tenses but he settles when George places a soothing hand on top of his own.

The trip is just ten days. That’s as long as he needs to survive his own feelings, a task that is going to prove impossible with how sweet George has been so far.

\---

The cab ride from the airport to George’s home takes only a little over an hour, a short drive despite the older’s complaints on the length of it.

“Ugh, seriously it takes forever to get home from here.” He bemoans to Clay, who chuckles in response.

“Dude, seriously, one hour is nothing.” He retorts with the shake of his head as they clamber into the back seat of the taxi. “Try driving twenty hours from Florida to Nick’s place in Texas.”

“That’s different.” 

“It so is not.” Clay disagrees, exasperation filling his voice. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Whatever.” George concedes with a huff, making Clay laugh. 

The two fall into a comfortable note of silence as the cab pulls away from the airport into a sea of headlights on the road. Clay watches out the window at the already dark sky and the road passing by them in a blur.

About thirty minutes pass before Clay decides to turn on his phone. He had turned it off for the flight and hadn’t had a chance to switch it back on since landing. The screen lights up, notifications popping up after a few seconds.

Reading through them, Clay decides to send responses to a few, texting back to Nick to let him know that they had landed safely and that things were going well. 

Nick wasn’t leaving to go back to Texas with Karl until the following day, so he was back at the apartment in Florida until the morning. Clay’s phone buzzes as his friend texts back with a couple thumbs up emojis, and then a text that makes Clay ready to throw his phone out of the cab.

**Sapnap & Dream**

**Sapnap:** have you and george had any wonderful confessions of love yet

**Dream:** shut the fuck up

**Sapnap:** so i’ll take that as a no…

**Dream:** what happened to not teasing me about this

**Sapnap:** it got boring

**Sapnap:** jk jk bro, i’ll drop it

**Dream:** thnx

**Sapnap:** but seriously, tell me if something does happen or i’ll never forgive you :(

**Dream:** nothing will but k

“Who are you texting?” Clay jumps, as much as he can, in his seat. He turns his phone over and clicks the screen off.

“Jesus, dude, you scared me.” He huffs. “I was just checking in on Nick and letting him know we didn’t die in a horrific plane crash.” 

George laughs, although the laugh lacks much of the energy it had that same morning. “Clay, planes rarely crash, like ever. You’re so dramatic.”

“Okay, mister one hour is a long drive, I’m the dramatic one.” Clay shoots back with a grin. 

“You’re the worst.” George claims, but there’s no real intention behind his words. “We should be getting home pretty soon, I’m starting to recognize the roads.”

The way George says ‘ _ home _ ’ instead of ‘ _ my  _ home’ or ‘ _ my _ house’ so easily makes Clay’s face flush with warmth. He thanks the stars for the darkness which covers the blush easily, especially with George being colorblind.

“Okay, sweet.” Clay settles on saying rather than voicing his real feelings. “So remind me again, who all is going to be there when we arrive?”

“My mum and dad, obviously,” George starts, “and then my older sister, Monica, who is the most perceptive and annoying bitch on the planet.” Clay chuckles at the comment, knowing very well from first hand experience how sisters can be. “My younger brother, Nate, and also Lucy who still lives at home. There’s the cat too but she’s much less of a concern.” George jokes.

“And they all know I’m coming, right?” The younger questions, the anxiety from earlier in the day starting to edge it’s way back into his thoughts. “What do they know about me and what are they expecting?”

“I only told Monica that I was bringing someone home with me.” George explains, his gaze meeting Clay’s in the dark. “I’m sure she told all the others, but I didn’t give her any sort of details.”

Clay takes a breath out. “Okay, so there’s basically no pressure to pretend anything. That’s a relief.”

“Well,” George sighs, “there is one thing. I can almost guarantee that my dad is not going to be super happy that I’m bringing home a boy.” Clay stares intently at his friend, watching his expression as carefully as he can in the dim lit interior of the cab. “He’s pretty traditional, and I’m sure he won’t say anything to your face at the very least, but he might not be extremely welcoming.”

“Oh.” Clay whispers. “Okay, if that’s the worst to expect then we can handle that.” 

“Good, I’m glad.” George says, his own voice hushed. Silence falls over them and there’s a tension in the air that is almost thick enough to cut with a knife. 

Before either of them can find words, the cab slows to a stop in front of a small house illuminated by a quaint looking street lamp. 

“Here’s your stop.” The cab driver says, glancing at the pair in the mirror. 

Clay shakes his head, subsequently shaking away the brief moment him and George had shared. He moves to exit the taxi as George hands over payment to the driver. His door opens and the cold, humid air of the British winter hits his face. The air smells slightly of salt, no doubt carried through the wind from the nearby coastline.

Clay shivers as he steps into the cold, his thin green sweatshirt not enough to keep the chill of the air off his skin. George steps out from his side of the taxi and the pair retrieve their suitcases from the trunk of the cab. 

“Are you ready to meet my family?” George asks as he shuts the trunk, waving a hand at the driver who slowly drives away.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Clay admits. He hates how easy he finds it to be vulnerable to George.

“Alright,” George breathes, “let’s do this, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should mention this is going to be updated completely sporadically. I work 60+ hours a week at my job so I write when I can, and my ADHD fuels my writing, so keeping to a consistent schedule is impossible for my brain. I should have chapter three up within the next week though! Thank you all for the support and a reminder that comments and kudos are always appreciated. Please scream at me about MCYT it's the only thing my brain thinks about rn


	3. 3. When we’re alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time that passes between them feels like eternity but also nothing at all before Clay is the one to break the quiet between them this time.  
> "Should- should we maybe practice? Like practice kissing?" His voice is so soft and small that George second guesses if he heard the younger man actually speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took like a week to get out, I rewrote this like a bazillion times and couldn't get happy with it :)  
> Anyways somehow this is also the longest chapter so far?? Splitting it anywhere else would have been awful for yall as readers and me as a writer so extra long treat for you guys with plenty of emotions!

George is glad that his mother is the only one waiting in the foyer as they enter through the front of the house. She smiles softly at the two men as George watches Clay shake the snow from his shoulders, his nose scrunched up in disgust. 

Clay finally glances up from his small fight with the snow, biting his lip and furrowing his brow. For once, George is glad that his friend tends to wear his emotions wide on his face, as he reaches out to grab Clay’s hand to ease his nerves.

“Hey, Mum.” George smiles, keeping his voice quiet, knowing that the lack of lights on in the home means that the rest of his family must have already retired for the evening. Relief floods his mind at knowing he has a little more time to prepare Clay for his siblings.

“Oh, George!” She exclaims softly, walking forward to crush her son with a hug. “I’m so glad you and-” she glances at Clay with a grin “-your boyfriend made it here in one piece!” With her hands on her son’s shoulders, George’s mom turns her attention to Clay. “And you must be George’s boyfriend. You can call me Cathlene, dear.” 

Clay scratches the back of his neck with his hand, now free as George dropped it to hug his mother. “I’m Clay, pleasure to meet you ma’am.”

“Nice to meet you as well, dear.” George’s mom says, finally stepping back from George to fully take in the younger man. “I must say, we were quite surprised to hear that George was bringing home a partner for the holidays. He hasn’t told us anything about you, in fact we didn’t even know he was dating anyone-”

“ _ Mum! _ ” George whines, stopping her from rambling on and continuing to embarrass him. “My whole life is not the entire family’s business. We were both so busy with classes anyways, I must have just forgotten to mention it.” 

His mom puts up her hands in a surrender position, smile still drawn across her face. “Okay, okay! I’m just trying to say that we’re all very happy for you both, we were just caught off guard.”

“I know, mum.” George sighs, reaching down to grab Clay’s hand to stop him from unraveling his hoodie with the way that the younger man is fiddling with it. George glances over at his friend, and Clay looks at him in a way that reads  _ 'thank you.' _

"How was your trip? You two both look absolutely exhausted." Cathlene interrupts the moment between the two men, her hands clasped together. Briefly, George feels like a fish being pulled out of water as the atmosphere between him and Clay snaps with his mother's words. A strange lick of anger swells in his mind before he pushes it away with confusion. 

"It was fine." Clay answers while George battles with the strange concoction of emotions battling in his brain.  _ It must be the jet lag _ , the older man reasons to himself. "It was both better and worse than I was expecting flying to be."

"Have you never travelled on a plane before?"

In the dark, George can barely see the slight red tinge that colors Clay's cheeks. "No, actually. My family typically drives for vacations."

"Well, I'm sure glad that the whole travel system didn't scare you off." George's mom chuckles, pulling a smile from Clay. She glances between the two again and then shakes her head. "I suppose I should let the both of you settle in, I can't imagine you've had much time to relax since you left your apartment this morning."

"Thank you, mum." George says, yawning as he speaks. "Where should Clay sleep?"

"Is he not going to sleep with you?" His mother questions seriously.

_ Oh shit. _ This was an oversight George wasn't really planning on. 

"R-right. Sorry, jet lag." George scrambles to cover. "I'm just not thinking straight right now." He ends with a light, nervous chuckle that doesn't sound super convincing to his own ears. But, his mom seems to buy it. 

"Of course, dear." Her expression and voice are full of sympathy. "Sleep well you two." She pats George on the shoulder and nods at Clay before heading up the single flight of stairs in the foyer up to the second level of the home. 

Once her footsteps fade and he hears a door shut upstairs, George sighs. "The sleeping arrangements totally slipped my mind. I can always sleep on the floor or something." He offers, aware of the way his ears are on fire.

"It's fine." Clay says, and George still can't tell if the younger is blushing or if it's the dim lighting playing tricks on him. "We probably should have expected it to be fair, but it's not like we haven't shared a bed before."

He's right, for the most part, George realizes. Although they had never shared sleeping arrangements between just the two of them. Most of the time it was their entire group of friends tangled together, fast asleep after a night of partying on a pile of couch cushions and blankets. 

George hopes the darkness hides the heat in his cheeks.

"Besides," Clay continues, his voice hushed and conspiratorial, "it gives us privacy to not have to pretend." Something in the way Clay speaks the last bit of that sentence is dripping in disappointment, but George can’t figure out why. He decides that the oddly forlorn tone in Clay's voice is just exhaustion and jet lag, not really wanting to put much thought into it himself.

Noticing that he's been silent for much longer than he should be with the flow of conversation, George clears his throat as he speaks again. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He reaches down and lifts up his own suitcase. "Here, let's take our bags to my room and then I'll show you where the bathroom is."

"Please do, I would fucking kill for a shower." Clay says, half joking, half serious. "We were on that plane for far too long, I feel disgusting." 

George huffs out a laugh, leading the way up the stairs in front of them. "You're ridiculous, the plane cannot have been that bad."

"It was terrible and I hate that I have to do that all over again to get back." The younger huffs, but his grin is audible in his voice. George shakes his head as their footsteps close the gap to the closed door of his childhood bedroom. 

He stops a couple steps away from the door, his tennis shoes sinking into the plush carpet. "This is my- well I guess it's going to be  _ our _ room." George speaks, focused very intently on his shoes. "I- uh. It's not much, but it's home." He finally glances up to make eye contact with Clay who is grinning at him like he hung the stars, and  _ christ _ that expression is making butterflies churn in George's stomach in a way he didn't know was possible. 

"I'm sure it's wonderful." Is the reply he gets, making the butterflies do somersaults. 

Knowing that he might say something ridiculously embarrassing, George opts to keep his mouth shut and instead places his hand on the door handle and opens the door into his room. His eyes are met by familiar pale blue walls plastered with a variety of gaming posters, as well as some merchandise of his friends' and his own. A computer desk sits in front of a curtained window on the far wall, an old, well loved PC sitting on top of it. His old bed is positioned right in the middle of the wall to their left, made with blue and grey patterned bedding.

"Here it is." George says, gesturing his arm in a sweeping motion with a giggle. He hears Clay chuckle in response.

"You're an idiot." George glances over to find the other's bright green eyes shining at him in the night. He has to look away to avoid blushing again. 

"So what if I am?" He teases back, still avoiding looking at the taller man. "Just set your bags down next to the bed and then I can show you to the shower." 

Clay just about runs to set his bags down, quickly rummaging through his belongings to grab a change of clothes for himself. He's waiting by the door again before George can even finish placing his own bags down. George hums in amusement.

"You really hated the plane that much?" He questions, although judging by the other’s actions, the answer is clear.

"Hate is a  _ strong _ word." Clay retorts. "But yes, it was terrible." Laughter peels out of George, and within seconds Clay is joining him with his own.

"You are so pampered. Do we need to fly first class next time?" George asks once his laughter dies down. 

"I doubt that makes the experience much better." Clay deadpans. 

"Once we graduate and actually have some money, I'll prove you wrong." George shoots back, starting to make his way out of his room. Clay follows, right on his tail. 

"I guess I'll be forced to take you up on that." 

"You're absolutely right you will." George navigates the upstairs of his family home with ease. The nice, neutral beige walls are decorated minimally with family photos and the occasional piece of artwork. It's comforting in the way that only a true family home could be after spending five months in a college apartment with two younger men. George is still astonished at how long Nick can go without doing his laundry. 

George leads the pair to a door that has been left cracked open. He pushes the door open, reaching over easily and flicking on the light in the small bathroom. 

"Here you go." He offers, allowing a soft, tired smile to cross his expression. "Shampoo and soap should be in the shower, and the towels on the rack should be clean." George leads his friend over to the shower to demonstrate how it operates. 

"You turn this for the water," he gestures to the knob in the shower. "Right is cold, left is hot, and then you pull up on-" he points "-this thing here on the faucet to work the showerhead. The temperature can be a little tricky so probably set it before turning the shower on." The younger man turns to face his friend. "Got it?" 

Clay nods. "Yeah it makes sense, thanks." George watches as the other sets down his things and gets to work adjusting the temperature of the water. Whether out of curiosity, exhaustion, or something else entirely, George finds it hard to finally pull his eyes off of the taller man. The way his dirty blond hair looks golden under the crappy yellow lighting of the bathroom, the way his hands are so precise in adjusting the knob in small motions. 

Pulling out of his stupor with a blush bright red across his face- a glance in the mirror confirming it- George clears his throat, deciding that just leaving the room in silence would be strange. "I'll be back in our room, whenever you're done." He offers, hoping that the heat in his face will be overlooked.

"Okay." Clay responds simply, the strange moment broken in George's head. Without another word, the older turns around and walks out of the bathroom. He shuts the door behind him, leaving just a small glimmer of warm light streaming out into the hallway from the little gap underneath. 

He walks back to his room, sitting down on the plush material of his bed. "What the hell is going on?" He whispers to no one in particular. George cards a hand through his hair, leaning back until he's lying fully on his back, his legs dangling off the edge of the bed. 

He can hear the very faint  _ shh _ of the shower from down the hallway as he pulls his phone from his pocket, where it had been left ignored for the past several hours. 

He has several text notifications, and he sends out replies to a few of them, letting friends know that they arrived safely, and bantering with a few others. 

**Sapnapity & Gogy**

**Sapnapity:** bro

**Sapnapity:** yall dead or what

**Sapnapity:** i get custody of patches if both of you died in a plane crash

**Sapnapity:** i dont know why dream would give you custody of her before me but

**Sapnapity:** if ur both dead then she's mine

**Sapnapity:** dream texted so at least he's not dead 

**Gogy:** ugh sorry, got distracted during the cab ride

**Sapnapity:** distracted huh? ;)

**Gogy:** not like that you asshole

**Gogy:** but to answer ur other texts no we didn't die and no u don't get patches 

**Sapnapity:** :(

He sends back a few emojis, clicking his phone into sleep mode when he hears footsteps approaching. George glances up right as Clay steps through the bedroom door. He ignores the butterflies in his stomach once again-  _ stupid jet lag _ \- instead grinning at his friend. 

"Is that better?" He teases, propping himself back into a seated position. George finds that his eyes are fixated on Clay as he ruffles his hair with a plush towel. Now wearing a light blue t-shirt, that looks just ever so slightly too large, the muscles in his arms are visible as they tense and flex with the motion.

"Much better." Clay responds with a grin, pulling the towel away from his head and pulling George out of his own head. "Thank you." Despite the teasing in his voice, there's also a heavy note of real gratitude.

"Anytime." George responds. The other finishes fussing with the towel and his hair for a few moments longer. Seeming satisfied, Clay pulls the towel from his head. 

He glances down at the damp towel in his hands and then at George, looking a bit lost. "Uh, where should I…?" 

George bites back the urge to laugh, instead pointing over to an empty clothes hamper in the far corner of his room. "Just toss it in there." 

He realizes his words a little too late. George watches with a mix of fear and awe as Clay rolls the towel into a ball with mischief twinkling in his eyes. He proceeds to hurl it into the hamper, narrowly avoiding a framed picture on the wall.

"Hell yeah!" The younger cheers, his face beaming with pride. 

George shakes his head, although he can't fight the smile off of his face. "Do you always have to be so literal?"

"I don't know what you mean." Clay replies, his voice filled with that ridiculous tone that he gets sometimes. George chuckles in a way only Clay can work out of him.

The younger shuts the bedroom door and moves his way over to the spacious bed. Rather than sitting down next to his friend, he flops face down onto the mattress. The mattress shifts under his weight and he sighs into the duvet. 

The pair fall into a silent lull in conversation. Exhaustion from the day of travel truly starts to set in as they sit together on George's bed. The atmosphere in the room is slightly tense, although not in the way that would make most people nervous. Rather, it's tense in the way that waiting for a play to start is tense. Everyone in the room holds their breath for the first words to be spoken. In this case, just two people in the room are awaiting for a conversation to be started.

"So," George speaks at last, still sitting up. He has his fingers interlocked and is tapping his thumbs together. "I think, possibly, we probably need to talk about boundaries. Well, I mean we probably should have before even getting on the plane but-" he laughs nervously, the sound is tight and so very not his laugh. "-that's really just hindsight being twenty-twenty."

Clay rolls over so that he is facing up, turning his head so that his gaze can watch the other's face. "Eh, I guess we should set some of those. I mean, for example I'm not going to fuc-"

" _ Clay. _ " 

Clay wheezes, his laughter melodic and filling the quiet nighttime air. "Okay, fine. But I am serious about that." He sucks in a deep breath, his face contorting into something serious and thoughtful. There's a long pause before he speaks again.

"I mean, obviously we're going to have to kiss and hold hands and whatever around your family." The younger states, his gaze now moved to focus on the ceiling fan. He inhales sharply. "That's… okay with me if it's okay with you." 

George frowns, looking down at his friend as he speaks. "You hesitated when you said that."

Clay gives him a pointed look, or as pointed of a look as he can from his position. "It's fine, I promise." His tone is very earnest and open, enough so that George relents. 

"Okay." The older breathes. "I'm okay with all of that as well."

"Cool." 

"Cool."

That strange tension fills the room again as the two fall into silence again. The digital clock on George's bedside table is the only real indicator that any time has passed. The time that passes between them feels like eternity but also nothing at all before Clay is the one to break the quiet between them this time.

"Should- should we maybe practice? Like practice kissing?" His voice is so soft and small that George second guesses if he heard the younger man actually speak. "Just so the first time we do isn't in front of your entire family?" He pushes himself into a sitting position finally, sparing a look towards George. Clay starts to bounce his leg, something that George knows he only does when he's extremely anxious.

"I mean," he continues, beginning to ramble. "We don't have to, but I thought that maybe-"

Honestly, George isn't really sure what thoughts are going through his head in the moment. Part of him just wants to wipe the nerves from his friend's mind, the other part just wants him to start rambling, and the last part is addled with exhaustion, nerves, and questioning why he lied to his family. 

Nevertheless, without really thinking the action through, George presses his lips to Clay's. 

The kiss is short and chaste, a simple peck on the lips. George pulls away almost immediately, his face burning even after the seconds long kiss. George is aware of Clay staring at him in shock as he pulls away, averting his gaze from the younger since he isn't sure how much more blood can rush to his face before he catches on fire. 

"I-uh, I just- you were rambling." George stammers, as if that's an excuse for  _ kissing _ his  _ best friend _ on the lips out of the blue. "Sorry."

He turns too look back over at the other to see Clay a bright cherry red, the color illuminating underneath his freckles like the inverse of stars in the night sky. His mouth is half open in a little 'o' shape and his dusty golden hair is laid half across his forehead.

George doesn't understand why half of his brain is yelling- screaming- at him to kiss Clay again.

The taller man still seems in a state of shock, so George cuts the silence again in an attempt to distract his brain.

"Um, was that okay? Like, just-"

"Yeah, yeah that was- that was good." Clay falters on the last word as if he wanted to say something else. George finds his own brain a little too scrambled to question it, however. 

"Great, wonderful." He says softly. "I think we figured that out then."

"Yeah, I think we did." Clay breathes.

They stare at each other in silence for another few seconds before George stands abruptly announcing that they both need to sleep before they have to deal with the entire rest of the family in the morning. He strides over to the light switch and flicks it off, the room plunging into darkness, illuminated only by the soft blue glow from the digital clock face. 

George can hear Clay rustling the bedding as he makes his way back to the bed in the dark, taking care not to trip on their luggage. The mattress shifts under his weight as he lays down next to the taller man, reaching to pull the duvet over himself. 

"Goodnight, Clay." He whispers into the dark, rolling onto his side to face away from the other.

"Goodnight, George." Comes the response from the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So,,,,,  
> scream at me in the comments I love to read your reactions  
> I'm really excited for the next chapter so that one might be a doozy and will probably take a sec to get out. No promises but my goal is to try and get one chapter at least once a week, but life and work are busy so we'll see!!


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